


read me like no one else

by queerofcups



Series: love love love (love love) [7]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Established Relationship, M/M, Soul Bond, Telepathic Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 18:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9620762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queerofcups/pseuds/queerofcups
Summary: Dan is inexorable, inevitable. His voice in Phil's head feels like home.





	

Phil runs his fingers lightly down Dan’s face, from his glabella to the tip of his nose. He can feel it on his own nose, distantly. The sensation sharing is the weakest part of the bond. He’s sure Dan’s grateful for it, phantom shin bruises and accidental fire catching feeling like distant sensations for him.

_That tickles_ , Dan thinks at him.

The telepathy is the strongest. It started developing when they were skyping every night, faces blue in the pale digital light. Dan insisted on still Skyping, though they’d find themselves staring at their screens silently, holding full conversations over the radio crackle of their minds, just because they could.

Dan swears he knew first, says he felt Phil the first time he saw him on youtube; started hearing distant voices, like people trying to speak through a thunderstorm, words swept away in the rain.

_You worry a lot_ , Dan had thought at him, the first time he’d spoken in Phil’s head intentionally. Phil shut him out immediately, instinctually, shocked to hear thoughts in his head that weren’t his.

He feels bad about it now, knows one day he’ll have to tell their kids that Dan’s first taste of Phil’s mind was a whirlwind of anxiety and then a mental block like a cold, concrete wall.

_It’s fine_ , Dan thinks now, in the present, picking up the squirmy sadness of Phil’s guilt. _We’ll have plenty of good times to tell them as well_.

They’re lying on the floor in Phil’s apartment, just sort of looking at each other.

It’d taken the better part of a year for Dan to finish chipping away at the concrete wall. Longer for Phil to reach back, tentative. The telepathy took the form of words for Dan. For Phil, it was anything but. He could send images, scents, sensations. The first time he’d sent something back to Dan, it’d been an image of a robin’s egg blue sky, blue-green with a coming storm. This was his fear, his unsureness, his wonder at their bond.

People didn’t talk about bonds now. They whispered about them, sometimes, watching couples that seemed too happy, too perfect. Phil had done some research during the Concrete Wall Days, reading first-hand accounts of the way bonds went from something celebrated and envied to something scorned and envied, something almost criminal.

_I’ll live with you soon_ , Dan says. Phil hears Dan like he hears his own mind, untouchable and unquestionable. _People won’t notice. They’ll just know you’re mine_.

People have already noticed. The viewers have noticed the way they seem to just _know_ what the other’s going to say, even in unscripted videos. People noticed them slipping away at the Halloween gathering, the overstimulation of being so close and around so many people becoming too much. People had been noticing since they started talking, long before Phil was ready to admit he was feeling anything more than friendship toward Dan.

Phil’s skepticism is a lemon gone off, traces of sour sweetness, but mostly bitter. Dan laughs. It’s the first noise he’s made out loud since he’d gotten to Phil’s apartment, hours ago.

There’s no way they’re going to hide this from people.

“We’ll find the people who don’t care,” Dan says. His voice outside Phil’s head feels too loud, too far away.

Phil sends him faceless people in the distance, another bitter lemon.

“They exist,” Dan insists. “They have to. There are people like us. There have to be people who love people like us.”

It hurts Phil’s chest to think that there are people who don’t love people like them, people like Dan. There’s nothing about Dan that doesn’t deserve loving.

_And even we don’t,_ Dan thinks again, reaching out to run his fingers through Phil’s hair, _we love us. What else do we need?_

It hurts Phil, sometimes, to be out in the world with Dan far away. Dan’s nearness softens his senses, makes it easier for him to walk down the street and feel less lonely. He’s not sure he believes Dan’s insistence that there are people that will love them. He’s not always positive there’s anyone else in the world like them.

Dan’s determination feels like sand to Phil. Dan’d laughed when he told him that, right after the first time they’d had this same conversation. It was true though. It just kept going and going, uncountable, its spread unknowable.

Phil didn’t _feel_ Dan until they’d met the first time. Before, Dan was just a voice in his head that slipped through the cracks in the wall he’d put up, wheedling and tempting him to take it down, just a bit. Dan in person was young, and bright and terrifying. The first time they hugged, Phil _felt_ him, arms doubling, relief like a long inhale, stretching across his ribs. Dan’s feelings didn’t settle across his body the same way Phil’s did. He could always tell which were his feelings and which were Dan’s. The first time they met, Phil felt Dan’s jackhammer heartbeat, felt his own mouth, soft against Dan’s hair, and Phil knew any fight he had in him was for show.

He’d fought, still, and Dan assured him he’d have it no other way. Phil suspects Dan doesn’t realize he’s inexorable. He doesn’t really know Phil never stood a chance.

Now, in an apartment with Phil’s name on the lease, making plans for Dan to be closer, making plans to eventually move to a city with more people, people that might not mind them being a little bit psychic (but only for each other), now, Phil’s glad the fight was futile. 

Now, Dan leans over to kiss him and it feels like burning, and freezing and home and inevitability. It feels like the prescience Phil’s _mostly_ sure he didn’t inherit from his nan, promising him safety and stability, a home filled with their things.

Dan’s face is warm, and he feels love in his fingertips first, traveling up his arms and across his chest. Phil taps out a beat over his heart, gentle, and Dan smiles against his mouth.

**Author's Note:**

> title is from fall out boy's "its not a side effect of the cocaine, so i'm thinking it must be love"  
> highly recommend that whole album if you're not as familiar with their earlier stuff. 
> 
> i swear, these fics come to me in two ways: either its a >1000 word snippet that I bust out and then I'm done or its one of these where I'm like wait, I want to write 20k, but don't have the time :(  
> yesterday's fic was like that too, and I have at least one more that just won't stop. 
> 
> this is fake, obviously.


End file.
